Good Guys And Bad Guys
Sermon
Ten Hits, One Run, Nine Errors
Gospel Sermons For Sundays After Pentecost (Last Third) Cycle C
Today's sermon begins with this little one-person drama.
As I stand here in this pulpit today, I am glad that I am not like that bad Pharisee. I never pray out loud just so people can see me, and hear me, and be impressed by my religious words. I give money to church, but I never boast about it. I go to church and Sunday school almost every Sunday, but I never brag about that, either -- like the Pharisee did. Instead I am very humble, as the tax collector was. Just like the tax collector, I say, "God, be merciful to me a sinner!" That's the reason God sends me home justified, because "all who humble themselves will be exalted."
This little drama makes the point that it is foolish and wrong for us to come before God with haughty attitudes about anything -- even our humility. In the sight of God we are all truly empty-handed -- both Pharisee and tax collector.
Giving credit where it is due, the Pharisee was at least trying to be godly -- at a time when so few people were even trying. How sad that his efforts at godliness made him so arrogant and unlovable. Not only was he an offense to God; he set such an ugly example that ordinary people would not want to imitate him. That was a bad kind of "evangelism."
The Pharisee was like a cartoon of Garfield the cat. Standing front-and-center on the stage of a Broadway musical, dressed in tap dance shoes and white trousers and straw hat, swinging a cane, loving the applause and spotlight -- Garfield says, "It is hard to be humble, when you're as great as I am." If it were not that the Pharisee took himself so seriously, he would have looked as ridiculous as Garfield the cat.
There was a pastor who was successful and confident. Under his leadership his congregation grew. Unfortunately, he was also proud and conceited; and he even persuaded the members of his church that they were the best in town. (Great for them, but hurtful to everybody else.) "It is hard to be humble, when you are as great as we are" was their attitude.
So much for the Pharisee. Now, the tax collector.
Giving blame where it is due, the tax collector was probably correct in his confession, "God, be merciful to me a sinner!"
The typical tax collector was greedy, dishonest, cruel, traitorous, and hard-boiled -- and that was on a good day. No wonder that Zacchaeus, the short tax collector who climbed a sycamore tree to see Jesus, felt the need to change his ways. "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much" (Luke 19:8).
Matthew, a tax collector before he became a disciple, must have been hoping for a better life when he walked away from his hated and hateful profession to follow Jesus. "As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, 'Follow me.' And he got up and followed him" (Matthew 9:9).
Winston Churchill, a colorful and flamboyant prime minister of England, had a political rival named Clement Attlee who was almost the opposite of Churchill. Although hard-working and honest, Attlee lacked the "pizzazz" we sometimes call charisma. "Attlee is a sheep in wolf's clothing," Churchill said of his rival, thus reversing the usual accusation, "wolf in sheep's clothing."
On another occasion a defender of Attlee said, "At least Attlee is humble." Churchill's response was, "Attlee has a great deal to be humble about."
In today's Parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, we can admire the humble confession of the tax collector, while recognizing that the tax collector had a great deal to be humble about.
Benjamin Franklin once made a project of improving himself, and he wrote down thirteen good characteristics to work on. "Temperance, Silence, and Order; Resolution, Frugality, and Industry; Sincerity, Justice, and Moderation; Tranquility, Cleanliness, and Chastity; Last of all -- Humility." "Imitate Jesus and Socrates," Benjamin Franklin wrote.
Franklin worked on one virtue every week, by keeping a small notebook in which he would mark a black dot every time he backslid. If he found himself overeating, he put one black dot beside the "Temperance" in his little book.
By his second week, Franklin worked on "Silence." "Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself," he wrote. "Avoid trifling conversation." Then he followed the same score-keeping procedure with his little notebook and the black dots.
He was making real progress, he thought. Every week the accumulation of black dots became smaller and smaller. Franklin went on to Order, Resolution, Frugality, and so on; but when he came to the thirteenth week, Humility, Franklin's self-help plan broke down, because he could not avoid being proud of his successful pursuit of Industry, Sincerity, Justice, and all those other good things.
Even Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount urged his followers to let their lights shine: "In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in Heaven" (Matthew 5:16). In our Sunday schools we teach our children to sing, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine ... Hide it under a basket? No! I'm gonna let it shine ... Don't let Satan blow it out, I'm gonna let it shine."
Our evangelism committees like us to wear Christian jewelry for evangelistic conversation starters: perhaps a fish from Christian symbolism, or "W.W.J.D." (What would Jesus do?).
Contradictory though it may sound, a bit of old-time advice is helpful here: "Hide when tempted to show; show when tempted to hide." In other words, if we start to enjoy too much telling others about our spiritual accomplishments, then back down a bit.
On the other hand, if nobody would guess that we are Christians, we had better express ourselves more. "Hide when tempted to show; show when tempted to hide."
On the fiftieth anniversary of a high school reunion, all the alumni were invited to write small paragraphs about themselves. Some were proud of the rank and income they had achieved in the business world. Others told about their many travels around the world. Still others about the accomplishments of their children and grandchildren. One wrote about herself and her husband, "We spend time, each day, thanking God for all the gifts he has given and continues to give us." God is probably pleased with that much quiet testimony of his goodness.
This sermon is titled "Good Guys And Bad Guys." It comes from a favorite play-time which young boys used to enjoy -- and probably still do. "Let's play 'Good guys and bad guys,' " somebody would say. The good guys could be cops; the bad guys, robbers: "Cops and Robbers."
It would be too easy in today's Gospel Lesson to call the Pharisee a "Bad Guy," and the tax collector a "Good Guy." Sad to say, it is human nature for us to assume that we are Good Guys, and other people are Bad Guys. Today's lesson teaches that we all need to pray, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!"
Knowing how to say, "I'm sorry," or "My fault," to each other would be a good follow-up of this parable. Several newspaper writers invited public suggestions for suitable gestures of "I'm sorry" or "My fault" from one automobile driver to another. We are altogether too familiar with gestures of anger and defiance; but do we know how to communicate something pleasant?
One suggestion -- the driver who made the mistake should lower his head slightly and bonk himself on the forehead with the side of the closed fist. The message is clear: "I shouldn't have done that."
A second suggestion -- the universal gesture for surrender or forgiveness is to smile and raise both arms, palms outward. If your car is still moving, you should only do this for a brief second.
A third suggestion -- when you goof in traffic, give yourself two light thumps on your chest meaning, "I'm at fault."
With proper adjustment of attitudes, the Pharisees of the world and the tax collectors of the world could learn to help each other and perhaps even learn to like each other. That would make God very happy.
As I stand here in this pulpit today, I am glad that I am not like that bad Pharisee. I never pray out loud just so people can see me, and hear me, and be impressed by my religious words. I give money to church, but I never boast about it. I go to church and Sunday school almost every Sunday, but I never brag about that, either -- like the Pharisee did. Instead I am very humble, as the tax collector was. Just like the tax collector, I say, "God, be merciful to me a sinner!" That's the reason God sends me home justified, because "all who humble themselves will be exalted."
This little drama makes the point that it is foolish and wrong for us to come before God with haughty attitudes about anything -- even our humility. In the sight of God we are all truly empty-handed -- both Pharisee and tax collector.
Giving credit where it is due, the Pharisee was at least trying to be godly -- at a time when so few people were even trying. How sad that his efforts at godliness made him so arrogant and unlovable. Not only was he an offense to God; he set such an ugly example that ordinary people would not want to imitate him. That was a bad kind of "evangelism."
The Pharisee was like a cartoon of Garfield the cat. Standing front-and-center on the stage of a Broadway musical, dressed in tap dance shoes and white trousers and straw hat, swinging a cane, loving the applause and spotlight -- Garfield says, "It is hard to be humble, when you're as great as I am." If it were not that the Pharisee took himself so seriously, he would have looked as ridiculous as Garfield the cat.
There was a pastor who was successful and confident. Under his leadership his congregation grew. Unfortunately, he was also proud and conceited; and he even persuaded the members of his church that they were the best in town. (Great for them, but hurtful to everybody else.) "It is hard to be humble, when you are as great as we are" was their attitude.
So much for the Pharisee. Now, the tax collector.
Giving blame where it is due, the tax collector was probably correct in his confession, "God, be merciful to me a sinner!"
The typical tax collector was greedy, dishonest, cruel, traitorous, and hard-boiled -- and that was on a good day. No wonder that Zacchaeus, the short tax collector who climbed a sycamore tree to see Jesus, felt the need to change his ways. "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much" (Luke 19:8).
Matthew, a tax collector before he became a disciple, must have been hoping for a better life when he walked away from his hated and hateful profession to follow Jesus. "As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, 'Follow me.' And he got up and followed him" (Matthew 9:9).
Winston Churchill, a colorful and flamboyant prime minister of England, had a political rival named Clement Attlee who was almost the opposite of Churchill. Although hard-working and honest, Attlee lacked the "pizzazz" we sometimes call charisma. "Attlee is a sheep in wolf's clothing," Churchill said of his rival, thus reversing the usual accusation, "wolf in sheep's clothing."
On another occasion a defender of Attlee said, "At least Attlee is humble." Churchill's response was, "Attlee has a great deal to be humble about."
In today's Parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, we can admire the humble confession of the tax collector, while recognizing that the tax collector had a great deal to be humble about.
Benjamin Franklin once made a project of improving himself, and he wrote down thirteen good characteristics to work on. "Temperance, Silence, and Order; Resolution, Frugality, and Industry; Sincerity, Justice, and Moderation; Tranquility, Cleanliness, and Chastity; Last of all -- Humility." "Imitate Jesus and Socrates," Benjamin Franklin wrote.
Franklin worked on one virtue every week, by keeping a small notebook in which he would mark a black dot every time he backslid. If he found himself overeating, he put one black dot beside the "Temperance" in his little book.
By his second week, Franklin worked on "Silence." "Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself," he wrote. "Avoid trifling conversation." Then he followed the same score-keeping procedure with his little notebook and the black dots.
He was making real progress, he thought. Every week the accumulation of black dots became smaller and smaller. Franklin went on to Order, Resolution, Frugality, and so on; but when he came to the thirteenth week, Humility, Franklin's self-help plan broke down, because he could not avoid being proud of his successful pursuit of Industry, Sincerity, Justice, and all those other good things.
Even Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount urged his followers to let their lights shine: "In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in Heaven" (Matthew 5:16). In our Sunday schools we teach our children to sing, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine ... Hide it under a basket? No! I'm gonna let it shine ... Don't let Satan blow it out, I'm gonna let it shine."
Our evangelism committees like us to wear Christian jewelry for evangelistic conversation starters: perhaps a fish from Christian symbolism, or "W.W.J.D." (What would Jesus do?).
Contradictory though it may sound, a bit of old-time advice is helpful here: "Hide when tempted to show; show when tempted to hide." In other words, if we start to enjoy too much telling others about our spiritual accomplishments, then back down a bit.
On the other hand, if nobody would guess that we are Christians, we had better express ourselves more. "Hide when tempted to show; show when tempted to hide."
On the fiftieth anniversary of a high school reunion, all the alumni were invited to write small paragraphs about themselves. Some were proud of the rank and income they had achieved in the business world. Others told about their many travels around the world. Still others about the accomplishments of their children and grandchildren. One wrote about herself and her husband, "We spend time, each day, thanking God for all the gifts he has given and continues to give us." God is probably pleased with that much quiet testimony of his goodness.
This sermon is titled "Good Guys And Bad Guys." It comes from a favorite play-time which young boys used to enjoy -- and probably still do. "Let's play 'Good guys and bad guys,' " somebody would say. The good guys could be cops; the bad guys, robbers: "Cops and Robbers."
It would be too easy in today's Gospel Lesson to call the Pharisee a "Bad Guy," and the tax collector a "Good Guy." Sad to say, it is human nature for us to assume that we are Good Guys, and other people are Bad Guys. Today's lesson teaches that we all need to pray, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!"
Knowing how to say, "I'm sorry," or "My fault," to each other would be a good follow-up of this parable. Several newspaper writers invited public suggestions for suitable gestures of "I'm sorry" or "My fault" from one automobile driver to another. We are altogether too familiar with gestures of anger and defiance; but do we know how to communicate something pleasant?
One suggestion -- the driver who made the mistake should lower his head slightly and bonk himself on the forehead with the side of the closed fist. The message is clear: "I shouldn't have done that."
A second suggestion -- the universal gesture for surrender or forgiveness is to smile and raise both arms, palms outward. If your car is still moving, you should only do this for a brief second.
A third suggestion -- when you goof in traffic, give yourself two light thumps on your chest meaning, "I'm at fault."
With proper adjustment of attitudes, the Pharisees of the world and the tax collectors of the world could learn to help each other and perhaps even learn to like each other. That would make God very happy.
